


A Harmless Mixup

by Abyssia



Series: Linhardt x Claude oneshot series [1]
Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Aphrodisiacs, Autistic Linhardt, Dancer Linhardt, Established Relationship, NB Linhardt, Other, Post-Skip, Semi-Public Sex, Smut, Thighjob, route ambiguous
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-14
Updated: 2020-01-14
Packaged: 2021-02-25 07:08:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,933
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22252129
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Abyssia/pseuds/Abyssia
Summary: Claude really needs to learn to label his potion bottles.
Relationships: Linhardt von Hevring/Claude von Riegan
Series: Linhardt x Claude oneshot series [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1601887
Comments: 4
Kudos: 36





	A Harmless Mixup

**Author's Note:**

> look, okay. I wanted to do more linhardt rarepair oneshots but, this is where my mind is. Thanks to my friends for the suggestions and encouraging my shenanigans. More to come!

Claude’s room is usually a mess, as anyone even vaguely aqcuainted would know. Claude is one who usually moves too fast for the objects around him to keep up, and so, things tend to become...scattered, not unlike the thoughts and whims that threw them there.

And today, in particular, the mess is more, fraught. Claude’s “hobby” of potion and poison making has now taken centre stage. On top of his usual phials and collection of potion ingredients, he now has a collection of empty potion bottles from battle, intent to refill them. He has been steadily working through creating doses of antitoxin when a knock sounds on the door behind him.

“Who is it?”

“It’s Linhardt.”

Claude’s face pulls into a smile before Linhardt even enters, and that smile remains when Linhardt approaches, closing the door behind them. Claude looks as though he is about to bound towards his lover, potions in hand before he pauses to set them down. Then, only then can Claude stride across the room to greet Linhardt with an embrace. Claude is usually affectionate, but today he seems especially so, craning up to plant a kiss on Lin’s cheek before pulling away.

“Glad you could make it, I was almost worried you’d sleep through it.”

Linhardt frowns. “I never _intend_ to miss an invitation from you,”

“Yeah,” Claude grins. “But you do sometimes, I mean. You can’t always control those naps of yours.”

Linhardt does not appear to be enjoying this joke. “Yes but I never _intend_ to ignore your invites or miss our dates.”

Claude, seeing this reaction takes a moment of pause. “Wait, I think I get it. Missing an appointment is breaking a promise, and breaking a promise is like lying to you.”

“It is lying, as far as I’m concerned,” Linhardt says, the frown softening slightly.

“Got it,” Claude carefully reaches out a hand to caress Lin’s cheek, silently asking if they are okay. Linhardt gives a soft smile and kisses the palm of Claude’s hand before Claude pulls away. “I’m almost done preparing, but I need your help with the magic-y stuff, as per usual. Just let me finish these last couple doses,” Claude says, walking back over to the mixtures and picking up where he left off.

Linhardt smirks, following Claude back to where the various phials and ingredients are set up. Linhardt idly looks at the other potion bottles, by now able to identify some of Claude’s favoured tinctures by the colour and quality. Running his hand along the lined up bottles, Linhardt picks up one that was out of place. Observing it in the light, Linhardt lets out a thought full hum.

Curious what had caught Linhardt’s attention Claude glances over. “Mmm, be careful with that one,” Claude says putting down his bottle and taking a hold of the one in Linhardt’s hand.

“Oh? how deadly is this one?” Linhardt asks, watching Claude set the potion back on the counter not at all in its original place.

“Not deadly, at least I hope not,” Claude replies, taking a hold of Linhardt’s hand instead. “I may have gotten a couple of mushrooms mixed up, and ended up with an aphrodisiac instead of a sleeping poison.”

Linhardt raises an eyebrow. “Is that so? You seem quite sure about that...you must have tested it then.” Linhardt tries to reach for it again but Claude holds their hand tighter.

“Trust me it is...pretty potent,” one look at Claude’s face is enough to see the regret painted across it. “We have a battle coming up tomorrow, so no time to waste our efforts.”

Linhardt nods. “Yes of course,” Their eyes glance to the bottle again. “Maybe we can test that out together some other time?” Lin says leaning down to brush their nose against Claude’s while slinging one arm around his waist.

Claude laughs. “Maybe...I mean I don’t have any trouble getting in the mood if you’re around,”

“Usually,” Linhardt replies wryly. “But sometimes, the war or your lack of sleep can’t help but keep you down,” Linhardt says, less teasing and more serious.

Claude’s smile, however, remains lightly sheepish. “But for now, I believe I asked you here to lend your magical wisdom to me, a humble tincturer who is defenceless without Pure Water’s magic protection.”

“That you did,” Linhardt says, lowering their arms and stepping back. He picks up some of the empty bottles and sets about for their preparation. “You really should label these,” Linhardt says, noting how the apparently dangerously potent aphrodisiac is in fact, in a re-cycled Pure Water bottle. 

“Don’t worry about it. I know my poisons, my tinctures, elixirs and tonics. I never get them mixed up.”

“That honestly just seems like tempting fate.”

“Well, as you know, fate is the one thing I have any faith in.”

“I am aware,” Linhardt replies. “Well, let's hope that your god of fate is still on your side when tomorrow comes.”

* * *

It’s a routine battle, which, in its way, is a bit of a sickening thought. Routing bandits is just run of the mill at this point, even when the battle for Fodlan’s future is looming. Teach holds back for this battle, sending out Claude to lead the charge as usual on the back of his trusty wyvern. And also, as usual, Linhardt in their dancer attire to assist. Linhardt detests battle, bloodshed and the like, but their healing skills are always indispensable, and also surprisingly, their skills as a dancer.

The battle is going well, nothing to report, chasing down a pack of marauders that were attacking merchants along Magdred Way. However, this particular bandit troupe happened to have a few too many Mages for Claude’s liking. No matter! After all, Claude had a fresh stock of Pure Water made with Linhardt’s help. The blessings would make him a lot less susceptible to those pesky spells. 

While he hangs out of range, Claude reaches into his bag and grabs the first bottle he finds, round and smooth like all the blessed water containers. Without looking he chugs it down, and all at once, he is hit by that fate he was all too eager to tempt the night before. 

Oh gods. Oh god of fate, oh goddess of Fódlan. That was not Pure Water.

Immediately, Claude’s body begins to heat up. But not feverish, like he’s sick or poisoned. No, it is an entirely different kind of heat, the consuming kind that hungers for more. The rise and fall of his wyvern underneath suddenly starts to feel disorienting, and the hard saddle between his legs feels like it is pressing against him. The blood has drained from Claude’s head and his thinking is foggy, and as to be expected, he misses his next shot wildly.

The enemy isn’t going to wait but thankfully, Leonie rides forward to take them out before Claude had to face any trouble. And then, while Claude is still recovering, someone else approaches him

“Claude!”

Turning to the left, Claude sees Linhardt, in their dancer outfit that, at this moment, is the exact last thing Claude needs to see. The low neckline, the bangles adorning Linhardt’s long arms; The slender legs exposed by the slits of the forest-green skirt. _Oh....gods..._

Claude must have seemed out of sorts because Linhardt then calls for Claude’s mount to land and beckons for Claude to dismount. In a haze, Claude complies, sliding off the Wyvern’s back and into Linhardt’s arms. Thankfully, the rest of the bandits are being handled without their help, and there is no immediate danger, but that doesn’t diffuse the mounting shame that also tinges Claude’s overwhelming arousal.

“Claude!” Lin calls again. “What in the goddess’ name happened?”

“I seem to have....mixed up my potion bottles.”

Linhardt lets out a scoff, pulling Claude closer so that their hips pressed together. Claude let out a low whine, his hips jerking in a few quick movements. 

Linhardt rolls their eyes while gazing out upon the battlefield. “Well, Claude. It looks like I will need to escort you to a secluded location for some _private_ medical care.”

Claude’s head jerks up and he gapes at the mage. “What? but we are—”

Linhardt puts a hand over Claude’s mouth. “No buts. You are hardly fit to lead, let alone battle in this state. Come with me.”

Claude lets his head droop in shame again, all the while his breathing comes deep and irregular. Despite his protests, he doesn’t let go of Linhardt.

Linhardt leads Claude deep into the woods nearby, far from any prying eyes and ears. Claude is so weak with desire he can barely stand, and so Linhardt leans him up against the mossy base of a tree with wide knotted roots, perfect for them to be secluded for the time being.

Claude continues to gasp, only letting go of Linhardt when the mage is seated there between Claude’s legs, already working at the archer’s clothes.

“Gods. What a fool I am.”

“I quite literally told you to be wary of this. Just last night.”

“Yeah, but I haven’t screwed up quite like this before.” 

While speaking, Linhardt had undone the clasps of Claude’s puffy outer jacket, revealing the light undershirt underneath. Linhardt begins by gently massaging Claude’s chest, drawing their long fingers down Claude’s abdomen to undo the sash.

Claude moans at the touch, his hips rocking into the air to meet nothing. Claude whines again, legs trembling, but he seemed perhaps too embarrassed to ask for what he wanted.

Linhardt tisks. “Dearest Claude, you will have to speak up if you have something specific you want me to do.” Linhardt meets Claude’s gaze, splaying their hands over Claude’s chest while leaning in. “If you want me to fuck you, right here and now, you’d better just say it.”

There was no use denying it, Claude did want this, even though every bone in his body was telling him that he shouldn’t. Not now, not when they are out on a mission, not when this is the result of his _mistake._ But Linhardt’s deep gaze is hard to resist. Somehow those lingering melancholy eyes give Claude a sense of calm that he is not often privy to.

Claude lets out a shuddering breath, placing both hands on Linhardt’s shoulders. He fiddles with the pauldron until it falls to the side with Lin’s help, Claud’s hand then trailing down the flesh of Lin’s upper arm, his gaze distant. 

Linhardt pressed in closer and crawls into Claude’s lap, causing him to let out an unhinged moan once Linhardt made contact with Claude’s erection. Linhardt grins, stroking Claude’s chin with a thumb, watching those alluring lips fall open with Claude’s deep breaths.

“Linhardt...” Claude gasps, desperately rutting his hips up against Linhardt. “Please, don’t tease me. Not right now, I’m begging you,”

Linhardt begins a slow grinding motion, dragging another moan from Claude’s lips. “Then beg.”

“Linhardt….please,” Claude’s hips buck desperately beneath Linhardt’s. “Please just fuck me.”

Claude is then jerked by the collar into a searing kiss, Lin’s hips moving against Claude in just the right way to cause the heat in his veins start to boil over. Linhardt parts the skirt of their dancer outfit, the sight of those pale long legs only serving to rile Claude further. 

Linhardt gets a mischievous glint in their eye and leans back, sliding off of Claude’s hips, much to Claude’s dismay. Linhardt then very swiftly frees Claude’s erection from his pants. Claude clearly has no clue what to do with his hands, and so Linhardt guides them to rest on his lower back. “Hold on tight to me,” Linhardt says, meeting Claude’s gaze. Claude nods and digs his fingers in, his impatience every growing.

Linhardt smirks and parts their legs, very carefully running one hand over Claude’s hard length. Claude lets out something close to a wail, his face now completely flushed his mouth hanging open as his eyes struggle to stay open. It was like his normal constrained reactions were totally unleashed. Claude moaned far too loudly to be smart, his legs quivering as his eyes squeezed shut even from just the brief touch.

“Move your hands higher,” Linhardt orders before leaning back and pressing his thighs together around Claude’s cock. With Lin’s thighs across Claude’s lap, his legs on either side of Claude’s torso, Linhardt begins to slowly rock back and forth, using that momentum to fuck Claude with their soft thighs.

“Lin...Lin—oh gods _Linhardt…_ ”

“Now tell me…Claude,” Linhardt drawls. “When you… _tested_ this potion before. I imagine you took care of it on your own?”

“Y-yeah—” Claude gasps. “I only had one sip, it wasn’t quite so—”

“Overwhelming?” Linhardt completes.

“Yeah…” Claude’s eyelids fall closed, starting to lose himself in the rhythmic movement of Linhardt’s thighs.

Linhardt’s face now took on that little furrowed look of concentration. Not too different when the mage was focused on a particularly puzzling book. Usually, Claude found that expression extremely cute, especially in the middle of _making love,_ as it were. But now, it just seemed that every possible thing that Linhardt could do was just more fuel on the fire.

“I can tell this outfit makes you want me,”

“Hey, I always want you,” Claude tries to remain suave.

“You know what I mean,” Lin says, squeezing their thighs tight and drawing out Claude’s moan with a long teasing stroke. Claude wasn’t able to reply, it seemed like he was finally too far gone.

Despite how unbearably aroused he was, orgasm couldn’t seem to come fast enough. Linhardt kept their thighs clenched tightly around Claude’s cock, thrusting harder as Claude became overwhelmed and unable to control his hips. “Lin...Lin—” he gasps through gritted teeth. 

Linhardt slows their thrusts to several agonizingly long strokes, putting one hand to Claude’s chin. “Now, cum for me. That is an order.”

“Y—yes my L—” Claude is gone now, the orgasm crashing over him and he throws his head back against the tree behind him, rutting up into Linhardt’s thighs a few final times until he is fully spent.

That roaring heat from the potion does seem to subdue, the rush leaving Claude feeling drained and lightheaded. While Claude cascades down from the high, Linhardt buttons him back up cleans them both as best as can be managed for the time being.

“Linhardt,” Claude whispers, grabbing Linhardt before they can pull away. “That was...my only bottle of that stuff but—” his lips form into a lop-sided grin. “You know...I will return the favour—later.”

Linhardt quirks an eyebrow. “Oh, I know you will. But don’t worry about that now,” Linhardt stands, offering a hand that Claude clasps desperately. “Right now, we just need to let the others know that nothing too bad happened to us.”

Claude takes that offered hand and lets himself be pulled to his feet, leaning against Linhardt for support again. “Right, right...” 

As they begin to stagger back to camp, Claude gives Linhardt another wide grin. "Really, what would I do without you?"  


"Probably get yourself killed drinking one of your poisons,"

"Hey, you know I don't make a habit of making _deadly_ ones."

"If you can make an aphrodisiac by accident, who knows what else you might brew."

"That is a...pretty good point actually."

One of Linhardt's hands clenches on Claude's back. "Please try to be more careful. If not for me, for everyone else, the professor and those that worry about you."

"It almost sounds like you're the one most worried about me," Claude attempts to tease.

"Well, technically speaking I cannot say that I am the one who worries about you the most over everyone. I do worry quite a lot, you are my lover after all."

For some reason, that blatant declaration makes sweat break out on the back of Claude's neck again. The way that Linhardt always said that word, _lover,_ somehow it felt like so much more. Claude knew, from experience that Linhardt really meant it. Love, not just as the physical act of being with someone but, as the emotion aswell.

Claude's arm tightens around Linhardt's shoulder. It's a bit terrifying, Linhardt's intense feelings, but Claude has come to rely on them. Even if in the back of Claude's mind, he knows he can't stay, he knows that he will have to break Linhardt's heart someday, Linhardt has always been so hard to resist.

Perhaps, because Claude feels those intense feelings in return.

The group's tents now are in view just beyond the trees and the two of them stop walking. Linhardt turns and looks down at Claude, "I have to talk to the professor, and tend to everyone's wounds. I'll meet up with you again after we get back, alright?"

Claude nods, lips still wide in a smile. "You got it," Claude then cranes up to meet Linhardt's lips in a kiss. Just as Claude pulls away, however, Linhardt's hand suddenly knots tightly in his hair. "I will need that _reciprocation_ quite soon after all. I'll be waiting for you once you're free."

"N-noted," Claude stammers as Linhardt releases him. Gods, how Linhardt knew how to rile Claude up. Truly, he'd never need something like that potion ever again. 

Linhardt's smile becomes soft again as he pulls away, walking leisurely towards the med tent, the voices of Linhardt's friends piping up to enquire where he went, and Claude strode after to join them. Hopefully, most would just believe that Claude had needed healing and wouldn't be too suspicious....hopefully.


End file.
